


Golden ichor coursing through her veins

by GreekWritesFanfiction (Greece_The_Squishy_Lencha)



Series: FT PRIDE 2020 [13]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: F/F, Metaphors, Non-Explicit Sex, Non-Graphic Smut, Poetic, Sex, ftlgbtpride2020, prompts: quiet & ambrosia, trying to be a bit more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:28:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24782320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greece_The_Squishy_Lencha/pseuds/GreekWritesFanfiction
Summary: Her hands are scorching, Cana loves it.
Relationships: Cana Alberona/Mirajane Strauss
Series: FT PRIDE 2020 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1770247
Kudos: 13
Collections: I Take Pride in What I Am 2020





	Golden ichor coursing through her veins

**Author's Note:**

> This the first "smut" (though, yknow, it's nothing explicit) I've posted, I hope you like it.

"If you make noise, I'll stop," under normal circumstances, she would have asked for the opposite. Heaven knows Cana's voice is holy music from a harp, but that desperate melody is hers and hers only. She cannot let the unworthy ears of their guildmates listen to it nor can she let them know what is going on in the storage room. 

The woman sitting on a wooden box hums in acknowledgment as Mirajane latches her full lips to her neck like a creature of the night. Yet, where a vampire would break the flesh and leave her an empty husk, this demoness keeps her livid with a mere brush of teeth.

Her hands are scorching, if her mind were not being overruled by her physical senses she would have thought of them as live embers, slowly burning through her. Cana loves it, it makes her feel as if she were being held in the sun's arms, an Icarus who never fell.

Mirajane leaves a red-tinted trail as she travels down her chest, it mixes perfectly with her flushed body and Cana looks down at her eyes. They are deceiving windows to an unbearably clear sky made to blind the foolish, to become lost and vulnerable, at the mercy of the devil hidden underneath that awaits for the right moment to rip its mask.

And Cana knows she is a fool when she notices the wicked glint on her dilated pupils right before the killing strike.

A hand presses over her mouth, the dam keeping that song that Mira adores so much from flooding the darkness that surrounds them. They have forgotten why they went there, they have forgotten how long it has been, they have forgotten any universe outside of their own

The demoness is insatiable, a ravenous predator that has been served its first feast and will not cease devouring until there is only bare-bones left. Evidence from the existence of that being that Cana used to be prior to this nearing rebirth.

The tarot reader almost breaks her temporary vow of silence when the devil's claws start to scrape at her with an unbelievable tenderness and soon she feels ablaze.

There is boiling ichor making it's way under her skin, coursing down through her veins and she wants to yell at the heavens until marble and gold crumble down with her echoes. Yet, she stays silent, because she knows she would turn to ashes if Mirajane stopped.

Finally, she is consumed, and she whines and trembles like a flame overcome by the wind.

And there the devil is, to drink, to drown in her sweet ambrosia.


End file.
